


Provocation

by Hoodoo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Cock Tease, Cop Rick? Doofus Rick? Reader's choice!, F/M, Feigning innocence, Non-Explicit Sex, Sweet/Hot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: You flaunt, you tease, you push Rick to his limits.





	Provocation

**Author's Note:**

> from anon tumblr prompt: _... I was wondering if you would be able to write something along the lines of reader has been teasing Rick all day, bending over in front of him, touching his leg at the table that kind of thing, until Rick finally snaps. With doofus or cop Rick?_
> 
> [Did you know? I take prompts. hmu!]

It started with a spoon.

You’d been mixing whipped cream and dipped the spoon into it to determine if it needed more sugar. You licked it off, decided it needed a little more sweetness, and added more powdered sugar in. Once incorporated, you repeated the taste-test with a clean spoon. 

From across the room, Rick made a noise. 

He’d been tapping at his phone. You hadn’t even known he had entered the room.

Feigning obliviousness, you sigh, put on a face like you can’t quite make up your mind, and dip your finger into the bowl this time. 

You take your sweet time sucking the cream off your finger this time.

Rick made another sound—a grunt of approval?—but you continue to focus on your baking and ignore him.

⁂

Later, bustling around getting ready to leave, you drop an earring.

“Drat!” you exclaim.

When Rick looks over, you bend at the waist away from him, quite unlady-like, to retrieve it. Your skirt hikes as you do. As you stand up, the tiny piece of jewelry slips from your fingers again.

With a dramatic groan you say, “I’m so clumsy today!” and bend to pick it up once more. This time as your skirt rises you slip your free hand to the back hem and try to keep yourself covered. 

You’re not fully successful.

Finally, with the earring held securely, you straighten again. 

Once again you ignore Rick clearing his throat.

⁂

Later, at dinner, you’re chatting with the waiter. It isn’t often you convince Rick to go out to a fancier restaurant with you, and you want to hear all the chef’s recommendations. 

Rick is borderline bored; an aura of nervous energy radiates from him and is barely held in check. He taps his forefinger on the tabletop.

You don’t respond to him, but do reach discreetly under the tablecloth and pinch his thigh. It startles him, and that edgy finger stops. You squeeze him more gently, and remove your hand. While you’re still engaged with the waiter, however, you push the edge of the tablecloth further under the table, to display your own leg.

Rick sees the movement from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t actively pay attention to it, though, until your fingers grab a bit of the fabric of your skirt and pull it.

The fabric rises up, up your leg: now the hem is at your knee, now it’s mid-thigh. It bunches a little, at the tops of your stockings, and your fingers make a show of lifting it so it more easily slides over the elastic. Your satin garter is visible now too, and your fingers slip under it, just a little.

Rick’s hand reaches for yours, but at his touch you freeze and start to readjust your skirt.

He’s smart enough to understand operant conditioning, and pulls his hand away. 

You smile—the waiter thinks it’s for him—and hike your skirt again.

When the waiter leaves, Rick seems to think he has full permission to touch you, but you actively slap his hand away, ignore his growl of annoyance, and cover yourself. During the meal you talk about frivolous things: the weather, the latest TV show you’ve binging, the fact you forgot to wear any panties—

Rick chokes on a mouthful of water.

It captures the attention of two from the wait staff, who hurry over to make sure he’s okay. While they’re helping him, you capture his attention by lifting your skirt enough to show you weren’t lying about the ‘no panties’ thing.

When they leave, satisfied the old man wasn’t going to die on their watch, you smooth your skirt again.

Each time one of them stops by the table, you do it again. You also pop open another button on your top, claiming it’s too warm in the place. Once, to change things up, you slipped your hand up the zipper of his fly with enough pressure to feel his cock. He jumped at that and shot you a look that probably telegraphed something. You didn’t know what it might be, however, because your attention was on the dessert offerings. 

Dessert was simple strawberries and cream, dusted with lavender-laced sugar. Although spoons were provided, you ate delicately with your fingers. You savored it; the fruit was fresh and sweet, and the flowered sugar crystals were sticky. The juice stained your fingers and it took some time to clean it and the sugar from them. The cream was a little messy, and you found a bit in the corner of your lips with the tip of your tongue.

Through the final course of the meal, Rick had given up being subtle. He watched you intently, a fine blush rising on his cheeks. A few times he ran a thumb over his own mouth. You laughed and held a strawberry out to him, some of the juice trickling down your fingers; would he like a bite?

He cleared his throat and shook his head. You shrugged and ate it yourself, dabbing the lines of juice off with your tongue.

Finally, you signaled for the bill, and grabbed his crotch one last time as your waiter set it on the table. 

⁂

Once home, you were barely in the door before Rick grabbed you. You squealed and pretended to be shocked.

“You little _minx,”_ he accused, his fingers finally edging under your clothing and verifying, by his own touch, you were wearing no undergarments but the lace-edged bra he’d glimpsed, the stockings, and the garter belt. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mister Sanchez.”

 _“Mister_ Sanchez?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed in both delight as his fingers ghosted along your most private area, and as if something just occurred to you. “Deepest apologizes! _Señor_ Sanchez. Mi dulzura. Mi pastelito!” 

At the simple words, Rick growled his approval deep in his throat and caught your mouth. If he expected you to pull away and torment him again, you don’t; your hands entangle themselves in his hair to hold him close.

When you’re both breathless, he asked if you’d like to adjourn to the bedroom. 

Instead, you pull him close with a hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt. “No,” you replied in a voice that tolerated no argument. “Right here, right now, Rick—“

“In the foyer?”

“On the stairs! I’ve been so horny all day—let’s just do it right now!”

With the balance of power so suddenly thrust into his hands, you have a slight worry he’s going to give you a taste of your own medicine.  
That would be intolerable, you weren’t lying, you’ve been so turned on all day and you’re at a breaking point—

Luckily, you’ve played him too well throughout the day and he can’t wait either. As you desperately requested, he bends you over, your hands on the stairs, clothing askew but not off, and takes you from behind.

It was well worth the teasing.

_fin._


End file.
